Silent Ashes
by Tifereth Kantrishakrim
Summary: Formerly 'In Fire's Wake'. "A small, cold hand smoothed back his tousled hair, and the figure in Robin's dreams grew raven wings and became a moon-pale guardian angel in a maelstrom of fire." RaeRob
1. Hallucinogen

This isn't the sequel to 'One Last Dance'. I don't know what the heck this is. It's the product of too much fluff and not enough sleep. I don't know if it's a one-shot, or the beginning of the sequel to 'One Last Dance', or something that will rot in my files forever because no one will read it. I just wrote it in an effort to break my writer's block, and I wanted someone to read it. Maybe it'll grow into a story, maybe not, but it was an idea that was floating around in my mind and wouldn't go away. It's also a reminder to all of my readers that I haven't abandoned you. Enjoy!

This is especially for you, Dusty, for being an avid reviewer, a wonderful writer, and an overall great person in general. I dedicate this whatever-it-is to you, in honor of all the times during 'Broken' and 'Shadow Creature' that you made me cry.

This story picks up about ten minutes after where 'One Last Dance' left off. And Robin does not have amnesia or anything; he is just in a weird kind of shock from emotion overload. I realize it's all very confusing, but I was reading Ray Bradbury, and he always inspires me to talk in long strings of metaphors. Review, please!

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Robin stared blankly into the shadows that surrounded him, feeling the darkness close in around him with a tangible pressure until he was certain that he would drown, his eyes drawn to the motion of a blue cloak vanishing around a faraway corner, its owner lost to sight. A single world-weary sigh fighting its way free of his lips, he fell heavily back against the wall behind him, cracking his head against the concrete and not caring as starbursts of pain exploded before his sightless eyes.

"Raven."

His mouth moved of its own accord, his face numb, his brain in the unresponding depths of shock and his heart barely beating. He could feel the slight pulse against the inside of his skin, and faint though it was, he could have sworn it made resounding echoes in the hallway's utter silence. "Raven……."

He was going to die. He could feel pressure building up in his chest, a strange kind of hollow emptiness, as though all of the anger and fear and laughter and agony that were growing and writhing in the depths of his brain had finally destroyed each other, expanding until there was no more room and then imploding into nothing, leaving a blank white cavity in their wake. And he could feel that whiteness, burning him from the inside out, the shadows of the hallway around him not dark enough to quench its heat.

Aeons away, he heard the hissing shut of a sliding metal door, and the clank of a lock falling into place that drowned out the beating of his weary heart. And still he did not move, even as the muscles of his hands relaxed and the green gauntlets that he always wore fell off and fluttered to the ground like dead leaves, with a whispering sound as they settled on the carpet. With a tremendous effort of will, he lifted his ungloved hand and touched it to his cheek, staring in fascination at the wetness on the tips of his fingers.

Had he been crying? He thought so. It was certainly a possibility. All memories, all emotions were blurred together in a bewildering maelstrom in his mind, and he was certain of nothing except that Raven had been here a moment ago, and now she was gone. The sheer emotion he felt was overpowering his thoughts, until his mind lost all powers of coherence and there was only the glimmer of water on his fingers. There had been something else, he remembered, something else that could have made his face wet, besides tears……

There had been rain.

Yes. Rain. Rain and music. He remembered now. Rain and music and….. pain stabbed through to his heart without tearing his skin…… and dancing. He and Raven – he and Raven had danced, one last dance, for memory's sake, for their sanity. And he knew that it had been like the last dream of a man condemned to hang at dawn, the last drop of water given to a woman sentenced to die in the desert. It had been futile, pointless, and yet filled with far too much emotion and longing for his simple human mind to bear.

And now Raven had returned to her room, plunging into that shadowed chasm where he had never set foot, and the hour was growing late, and the night becoming old, and here was he, standing stunned in the shadows, transfixed by the shards of broken dreams Raven had left in her wake.

His mind still shocked and reeling, he forced his numbed body to move, forced his feet to pick themselves up and fall down again, each few inches he traveled like the next step on the tightrope – his balance lost, his perception falling dizzily away into space. And he walked – slowly, drunkenly, staggering from side to side as though the draught of emotion he had downed had been too much and now he had to sleep, whether or not he managed to make it to his room.

He didn't know why he bothered to walk through the halls, unsteadily, searching for the familiar door. His life had come to an end. The girl he loved had rejected him, doomed him to a life of loving silently, and he could think of nothing but moonlight on her face, with all other memories fled. The day had ended, and he did not want to see another morning.

He stumbled through the deserted halls of Titans tower, his hands moving restlessly, his mouth open and moving silently, his hungry gaze flickering back and forth as though striving to penetrate the darkness all around him. Then, in the recesses of a doorway that loomed out of nowhere, something caught his eye – a glimmer of light.

Unable to think, barely able to breathe, he returned to his most basic instinct, and walked towards the light. Falling against the doorframe as though unable to support himself any longer, he peered bewilderedly into the room, his senses flooded by the bright white radiance that streamed from the naked light bulb in the ceiling.

"Cyborg?" he asked tiredly, his battered brain vaguely recognizing the glinting of light off of metal. As his eyes adjusted from the darkness of the hallway, the blaze of radiance before him dissolved into the half-robot's silhouette, typing at one of many computers that sat, cradled by shelves, fused to the walls, humming quietly to themselves. _Dead,_ Robin thought vaguely. _Like me. Dark and lifeless, at the mercy of whoever cares to flip the switch._

"Yeah?" Cyborg said absentmindedly, without looking up from his computer. After a moment of silence, he turned around, the expression on his face one of mild impatience. "Yeah, what do you – Robin!"

The red robotic eye swept him up and down, taking in his damp and rumpled uniform, his newly-replaced mask sitting crookedly on his nose, his bare hands – and the look on his face, the blank and desperate mask of a man who has been shot in the heart and is too stubborn to fall down.

Cyborg closed his eyes for a moment, his metal hands clenching into fists on the edge of his keyboard. "Please," he said hoarsely, his voice lacking the confidence and strength it had once had, "_please_ tell me you found her."

"Wha –" Robin stared at him, bewildered, the words sounding like gibberish to his ears. Found who? His world was crashing down around his ears, none of this made sense, he hadn't been looking for anyone –

Memory returned in a rush, and something clicked. Yes, he had been looking for someone. Who? Raven. Raven, who had left the tower, with no note, no explanation, bearing hideous wounds that were only half-healed. Raven, who he had found taking sanctuary in a church – irony of ironies – and who he had talked with, about something, something important. The memories were too painful to reexamine, but he knew it had been important. Raven, who he had danced with –

"Yes," he said, his voice dead and hollow, echoing to him from a great distance. "Yes, I found her. She's in her room now. She's fine."

"Thank God." Cyborg sighed in relief, his metal hands unclenching, his entire body relaxing as he looked at his leader with a jaundiced eye. "Remind me to kill her tomorrow. I hope you yelled at her for leaving in her condition?"

Receiving no answer but Robin's blank stare, the half-robot continued to rant, turning back to his computer, his fingers blurring over the keys. "Broken ribs, a punctured lung, shoulder bone snapped clean in half, bruises and cuts all over. What was she thinking? By all rights, she should be dead. I don't how she managed to keep herself alive after all that happened to her."

"Magic," Robin said briefly, a weak hint of humor in his voice.

"Damn magic," Cyborg muttered darkly. "Damn it to hell. By all rights Raven should be dead now, Robin. Look at this." He moved away from the computer screen, revealing a picture of what was clearly Raven, slumped lifelessly on the basement floor, the blood that covered her body only hinting at the terrible wounds that lay beneath. Robin felt his gaze held transfixed to the screen in mindless horror, even as he tried desperately to look away, tried to rid himself of the image that haunted his nightmares and lingered in the deepest recesses of his fear. He felt that fear now, striking him like a physical blow, a punch to the stomach that knocked the wind from him, the final kick that drowned all conscious thought in terror. Bile rose in his throat as he remembered the raw, demonic pleasure of having his claws imbedded in her flesh, her blood pouring from his fingers – _I did that to her._ It pounded with the beating of his heart, echoing in his head, a mantra, an unending chant that wounded him with every repetition. _I killed her. My fault. My fault. My fault._ He looked down at his ungloved hands, the pale skin darkening to take on the color of scarlet scales, the color of blood. Raven's blood. _I love her. And now her blood is on my hands._

"From my memory file," Cyborg said grimly, tapping the plate of blue wires and electronics that was set into his head. "I record everything, and I transmit it to that computer. And this file has been keeping me awake for days. I keep wondering – what if things hadn't turned out the way they did? That was close, Robin. Way too close." The half-robot sat down again, turning his back on his leader, hiding the heinous image from view. "You said you found her? Where was she?"

There was no answer. Robin could not bring himself to speak, could not force his mind to form coherent words. He was tired, so tired, as though all of the emotion he had been experiencing had drained his strength as surely as any battle. The memories were so fresh, so new, they still stung like raw wounds when he tried to call them forward, bursting with fear and anger and agony. So he let them lie in the dark depths of his stunned brain. He would remember later. Right now, he only wanted to forget.

Cyborg didn't seem to notice that his leader was lost in his own thoughts. Instead, he continued to speak, as though he didn't expect Robin to answer at all, as though he was quite used to the heavy silence and the blank white stare on the back of his neck. "I hope she didn't fly too far," he said casually, his hands fidgeting restlessly across the keyboard. "She isn't well yet, she isn't healed – not even close. Too much activity, and those wounds will tear right open again, magic or no damned magic. And if they do – we just might lose her."

The last words were spoken softly, with hesitation, as though speaking them gave them shape and form and made them an irreversible reality. Robin didn't even register that Cyborg had spoken – he was too hopelessly lost in the corridors of his own mind, chasing after wraiths of smoke that ran cloaked in blue.

"Listen, Robin," Cyborg said slowly, apprehensively. "I know – I guessed – what's going on between you and Raven. And I can guess why you look like a truck hit you and you haven't realized it yet. I also know that what I just said probably didn't help." Turning around to face his leader again, he rose from his chair, walking over and placing a heavy metal hand on Robin's shoulder. "Raven is going to be fine, okay? I promise. I was just scared when she left, that's all. You don't need to worry about her – about her –" he faltered for a moment, but picked up his courage and continued, "– about her dying. None of us will let that happen. Okay?"

Robin nodded dumbly, still unable to speak, Cyborg's words washing over him like the night tide rhythmic sound, oddly comforting, soothing but meaningless. The syllables made no sense, fracturing into garbled noise that simply seemed to slide off him, not sinking in, not staying long enough to make any kind of impression. What didn't he have to worry about? Who was dying?

Then he realized, with a start, that Cyborg though the cause of his distance was Raven's injuries. The thought made him want to laugh – a kind of crazy joy tore through him, pumping fire through his veins for no real reason, filling the terrible emptiness in his chest with a kind of burning euphoria like the exhilarating high of a drug. He began to laugh, quietly, for he was faced with the choice of laughing or bursting, his emotion expanding until it could no longer be contained by his skin; luckily, Cyborg had walked past him and into the hall, so he did not see. And Robin laughed, every breath tearing at his throat, every exhalation a dagger in his chest. Just as suddenly as it had come, the insane laughter died away, and he was left an empty shell once more.

"Get some sleep, man," Cyborg called over his shoulder, already walking away down the hall towards his own room. "It's almost morning. Tomorrow we'll talk to Raven, and see if she can't heal herself some more with her damned magic." The metallic clanking of his footsteps faded to nothing and Robin, emerging from his shock despite his desperate attempts to remain in ignorant bliss, turned to follow, moving woodenly down the hall. Reaching his room, he hesitated on the dark threshold, imagining the waft of cold air that drifted from the endless abyss that surely lay in the shadowed room, envisioning himself, a dying spark of color and light, falling falling falling through the endless night that lay just beyond that door…….. the darkness that always seemed to await him at every turn.

He stepped into the room, a cold, leering smile gripping the muscles of his face as his boots met solid wood instead of empty air. So he walked through the shadowy cavern, his heart and mind plummeting even though his body was not. When his knees bumped the edge of his mattress he halted, unmoving, his blank stare still boring into the darkness ahead of him, his imagination wild with a fever of pain and imagining ghosts that lurked behind. And soon the cold currents of air in the room became her fingers trailing over his skin, and the darkness was the ever-changing sorrow in her eyes, his mind conjuring up movements at the corners of his eyes that resembled the rippling of a cloak.

Letting himself fall forward onto the bed, his heart a terrible vacuum of broken shards slashing the inside of his body with every motion, his hands clenched into angry fists even as the cold smile still gripped his face, he felt a single tear burn like scalding oil on his cheek. Sleep crept up from behind and overtook him, battering his bruised mind into submission, his body going limp as wild storms of blood and lightning stormed through his dreams.

He thrashed and turned in his sleep, his hands curled into fists lashing out at imagined demons, his teeth gritted in rage and pain as he kicked and squirmed wildly, his covers looped like a noose about his neck. His dreams, visions of fire, blood, rose thorns and broken glass, consumed him – so occupying his sleeping mind with revelations of apocalypse that he did not wake at the cool touch of a white hand on his burning skin, or notice as slim fingers untied the blankets from around his neck. It was not until slender, graceful hands gently lifted the mask from his face that he quieted, feeling the cool touch of air on the bare skin around his eyes. He stopped thrashing at the cold brushing of someone else's hand against his cheek, his hands unclenching, the tension flowing out of his body as his violent nightmares faded. Instead, his dreams were filled with compassionate and pain-filled violet eyes, a gently beautiful face framed by ebony-blue hair, and a graceful silhouette that called to him with a sweet voice and froze the burning ground where she walked.

"Robin………."

The gentle, trembling whisper faded into the silence that hung over the room now that the Boy Wonder had calmed. Robin lay on his side, slumbering peacefully, the expression on his face not a smile, but no longer a scowl of rage or a blank mask of utter despair. The mask lay forgotten on the floor as a small, cold hand smoothed back his tousled hair, and the silhouette in Robin's dreams grew raven wings and became a moon-pale guardian angel in the midst of a maelstrom of fire.

A pale shadow stood over Robin's bed, cloaked in ebony blue, one hand clenched around his, the other resting on his forehead. Straightening up, the figure turned away, the white hands hiding themselves within the shadow of a cloak. The moonlit form was suddenly engulfed by darkness, as a pitch-black ghostly raven, edged in white, faded through the wall, leaving the echoes of a once-smooth voice hanging in the air of the darkened room.

"I'm sorry, Robin, so sorry………."

The boy on the bed reached out his hands in sleep, as though trying to grasp something in his dreams, reach something unattainable and never let go again.

"I love you, Robin, now and forever."

He replied, his eyes still tightly closed, his hands falling limply back to his sides as he turned once again in restless sleep. The murmured words slipped from his lips, fading quickly into the silence. "I love you too, Raven. I love you too."

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Like it? Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! Come on, review! And that means you, Dusty! (Like I have to tell you……. I feel like we're in some kind of contest, going back and forth, seeing who can write the saddest story.)


	2. Fear

Sorry if this writing isn't quite up to par for me, but I've been recuperating from a vicious attack of writer's block – and it's the worst kind, the kind where you have tons of ideas, but nothing comes out just right on paper. Hopefully this chapter marks the end of a rather long dry spell, and more chapters will come very soon.

Chica De Los Ojos Café asked for shorter chapters, so I've tried to break the story up a bit. Dusty, you wanted more of Robin; here he is, and rest assured there will be MUCH much more of him in later chapters. Sorry I kept you waiting so long with this update, but my life has been just jam-packed lately….. don't worry, I plan to get some serious work done tomorrow, and I'll get something up. Until then, enjoy!

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Night fell softly over Steel City, a shroud of darkness that was broken by the gleam of skyscrapers and city lights that continued to burn despite the hour, throwing the stars' own radiance back to them in the shadowed sky. The moon hung full over the unsleeping city, peering down with never-ending vigilance on both the crowded streets and the restless waters beyond. Filling the air with their dull roar, the waves lapped constantly at the base of the tower that stood like some steel sentinel bolted into the cliffs that supported the city above. Here the silence that had been driven from the bustling metropolis finally took hold; not a sound stirred the murky darkness that reigned inside the T-shaped tower, the roaring of the night sea only a dull hum beyond the thick concrete walls.

Inside the front room of the tower, on one of the tinted windowpanes that commanded an astounding view of the restless waters, a tiny red light flared to life, mimicking the fiery bloom of an explosion in the city far above that was neither heard not felt in the silent tower. Maybe the faintest tremor shivered through the solid rock of the cliff that supported it, or maybe the barest ripple of sound filtered through the thick walls, but it went unnoticed by the sleeping teens who called the tower home. And maybe a maniacal laugh drifted through the night – but it was soon drowned out by the klaxon wailing of the siren that shattered the idyllic peace.

Red emergency lights blazed in the ceiling, flooding the darkness of the front room with a bloody radiance as Bumblebee barged through the door, wings fanning madly, stingers out and clutched in both hands as though she expected to be attacked at any moment. When no enemy presented itself, she replaced the stingers and stumbled over the computer console that stood waiting against the far wall.

Her fingers blurred across the bewildering array of flashing lights and buttons, her eyes flickering across the screen, drinking in the frantic words that streamed across it. Police broadcasts, news reports, citizen calls, maps and images that chased the red locator dot through the steel warren of the city. There was a resounding crash from behind her, as though someone had slammed into the closed door at high speeds, and Spanish curses could be heard over the dying wail of the alarm. She could hear the rest of her teammates stumble into the room, but didn't even look up, her wings fluttering anxiously as she pressed a large red button in the center of the console.

Immediately the chaotic streams of information vanished, to be replaced by an image of a dark, deserted room, the mirror image of the one behind her. Wings blurring in her anxiety, she hit the speaker button and shouted as loud as she could at the computer screen; "Robin! Robin, wake up! Raven, Cyborg, Beast Boy, Star! Calling the Teen Titans! Come on, guys, there's been an emergency!"

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"_I love you too, Raven. I love you too."_

"Robin!"

Robin tossed and turned in his sleep, wandering through dreams of icy wind, where a blue-cloaked shadow ran always just beyond his grasp. "Raven," he muttered, hands outstretched, begging, pleading. "Raven….."

"Robin, wake up!"

He stirred, roused half into wakefulness by the insistent voice. Someone calling his name….. a girl's voice…. someone familiar. Very familiar. But who…..

Raven?

No, not Raven. Raven wouldn't be shouting, Raven never shouted, never let herself get angry. Then who was calling him, waking him from the dream that had seemed so real……?

"Calling the Teen Titans! Come on, guys, there's been an emergency!"

_Emergency._

Even half-asleep, lost in the whirling of a fading dream, Robin knew that word, knew its importance, knew its pressing urgency and constant demand. He did not need to think; years of emergencies, years of battles and frantic calls in the middle of the night, had conditioned him so that he was moving before the word had finished burning its way into his brain. Rolling sideways out of bed, he hit the ground and came up with his steel-tipped boots in one hand. Dashing towards the door, he paused to throw his utility belt over his arm. Just as he reached the door, his hand flew out of habit to his eyes –

He stopped in mid-step, horrified, as his fingers grazed his skin in their quest to adjust the mask that was not there. Swearing softly, still not entirely awake, he turned on his heel and plunged back to the bed, ruffling frantically through the covers, looking for the lost scrap of cloth. _Must have lost it in my sleep – damn thing, I thought I tied it on tight!_

He stepped forward, onto something soft and yielding that gave way beneath his foot. Bending down, he scooped up the abandoned mask and settled it back into place, allowing himself a sigh of relief as the weight of cloth fell back over his eyes. _At least I didn't walk out without it – if the others had seen me –_

A part of his weary brain, separate from the superhero leader who was already scheming about what emergency could have wakened him at this time of night, entertained the idle thought. Beast Boy, seeing the infallible Robin without his mask, would have laughed, or made some snide comment about alerting the press, oblivious to the importance of what he was seeing; Starfire would be surprised, stare at him curiously, say "Oh, your eyes! Why did you not show them to us before?" with her touchingly innocent naiveté; Cyborg, with a deeper understanding the other two did not possess, would know that seeing Robin without his mask would make him vulnerable, and would turn away. Raven –

Raven had already seen his eyes.

The thought, the memory, struck him with physical force, halting his dashing progress down the hallway as images flooded into his mind, jerking him fully into wakefulness. A church, a once-sweet voice now harsh and bitter, a familiar song, broken windows, liftetimes of rain – the events of the past few days bombarded him, each wound to his heart torn open and bleeding again, all at once. The fog of sleep that had clouded the memories disappeared, and sensation returned in a rush, stinging and raw; claws, scales, darkness, excruciating pain, and the dead drunken stupor that had gripped him in the aftermath – and was beginning to overtake him again. He didn't want to look at the memories, didn't want to remember, didn't want to feel Raven's every word like a dagger in his heart –

His knees gave way and he collapsed sideways against the wall, gasping for breath, his mind spinning in a dizzying whirl of remembered pain. His breath caught in his throat, escaping in a harsh, ragged sob of agony. It was all too much, too fast – the mask was displaced by a single hot tear burning its way down his face –

"Robin!"

_No!_

Gritting his teeth, he shoved the memories to the back of his mind, pushing himself away from the wall with a tremendous effort of will, moving towards the voice that he could clearly hear calling him in the silent corridor. He would not cry – would not remember – would not feel. Not now. Now, he told himself firmly, he was Robin; the masked avenger, the invincible superhero, the fearless leader. Now, there was an emergency to be solved, and there could be no time for tears.

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Bumblebee watched in consternation, the moaning of her teammates ringing in her ears, as she saw the door open and a disheveled but fairly alert-looking Robin stumble onto the computer screen, hair even more wild than usual, steel-tipped boots in hand. "Bumblebee?" he panted, looking up at her in bewilderment. "What's going on?" In his haste to reach the computer console he tripped, falling to the floor and taking the opportunity to jam his boots onto his feet while he was down. Leaping up again, he raced to the console and began tapping frantically, doing something Bumblebee could not see. "What's the problem?"

"Prison break," she said shortly, one eye on the image of Robin, the other on the words scrolling down another part of the screen. "Less than half an hour ago –"

"Can't you guys handle it?" he asked wearily, absentmindedly adjusting his mask, which sat crookedly on his nose. The metallic doors hissed open as Cyborg charged into the room, eyes half-closed, sonic cannon charged and ready, followed by a drowy-looking Starfire. There was a flash of green as an emerald cheetah came tearing down the hall after the pretty alien, then a ringing crash as it ran straight into the closed door.

"Normally, yes," Bumblebee replied grimly as a clearly dazed Beast Boy staggered into the room behind Cyborg. "But the criminal's moving too fast. _Way_ too fast. No way he's just on foot – he must have had some kind of getaway planned. He's already out of Steel City, heading west. We'd never catch up to him."

"And you want us to lay an ambush? Fair enough. Any idea who we're dealing with?"

"Nope. Hold on a minute……." Lights sprang frantically to life all across the computer console, and words flashed across the screen at a frantic pace. "Receiving police reports right now…….." There was a moment of silence, then Bumblebee began to swear softly under her breath. "Damn it, Robin, you're never going to believe this. Brother Blood's out of prison and headed your way!"

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"Brother Blood?" Robin grimaced, his expression matching Bumblebee's as she stared down at him out of the console. "Thanks, Bee. We'll take care of it. Gotta go." Switching the console off, he watched as Bumblebee's face disappeared before turning to face his fellow Titans. "You all heard that?"

Cyborg nodded, his face grim, his red robotic eye narrowed in determination. Starfire echoed his gesture, her hands already glowing green in preparation for battle. Beast Boy only blinked, still recovering from his encounter with the doors, and scowled, looking around at the otherwise-empty room. "Hey, where's Raven?" he whined, obviously disgruntled. "If I have to be woken up at two in the morning, so does she!"

"She probably didn't hear. After all, the alarm didn't go off, and her room is furthest away." Robin paused, his eyes narrowed behind his mask, doing a quick calculation. "I'll go get her. Cyborg, Beast Boy, Star, head to the east end of the city, see if you can lay some kind of trap. You'd get there faster than me anyway."

Cyborg nodded and headed for the door, Starfire trailing behind, while Beast Boy paused to throw a playful salute before following. Looking out the window, Robin saw a great green pterodactyl take to the skies a moment later, bearing a dark figure on its back and followed by a swift-moving silhouette as it flapped away into the night.

Turning on his heel, Robin plunged between the metal doors and into the inky darkness of the hallway beyond. The utter lack of light cast a pall of shadow over everything around him, making it impossible to tell where he was; it seemed that the impenetrable darkness masked some depthless chasm that stretched away to all sides, menacing him as he blindly walked the narrow path above.

Banishing such errant thoughts from his mind with a shake of his head, he continued through the dark warren of the moonlit tower, letting instinct guide his steps. He did not need to see; not on his way to such a familiar destination.

Finally he slowed and stopped, looking around him blindly for the metal door he knew was there, hidden by the darkness. Some crazy part of his weary mind imagined that he could see a well of darkness thicker than the night around him where the door should have been, as though Raven's presence inside the room had drawn all light from the world around her. He shivered, almost able to feel the frigid cold of her façade seeping under the door, surrounding him in a silent layer of ice.

He raised one green-gauntleted hand to knock on the metal door – and stopped.

Part of him, the responsible leader, the masked crimefighter, demanded that he wake Raven and get to the site of the upcoming battle immediately, to help his team. Part of him screamed in fury at every second's delay – but its wailing went unnoticed, lost in the harsh sounds of Robin's breathing, as the rest of his mind spun as though in an effort to tear itself apart.

He could envision what would happen when he knocked on the door – maybe a harsh voice emanating from the depths of the shadows, commanding him to go away, or demanding an explanation for being woken at such an unholy hour. And he would explain that there was an emergency, a battle to be fought, a criminal to be captured; then the door would slide open, and he would find himself staring into the depthless violet eyes that seared his heart with every thought. And there would be a moment of silence, as he tried desperately, hungrily, to find any hint of warmth or compassion in that contemptuous gaze; a moment that would drag on into eternity as only cold indifference would meet his eye. And the harsh voice would speak again, an abrupt and irritable demand, so far removed from the sweet tones and gentle laughter he had grown to crave. Or maybe she would not open the door at all, but phase away through the walls of her room, leaving him standing stupidly in the hallway, waiting for a reply, but receiving nothing but a roar of accusing silence.

Slowly, slowly, the gauntleted hand dropped.

He could not face that silence. He could not look into those endless eyes, not so soon after they had pierced his heart. He could not meet Raven's gaze.

Another memory drifted its spidery tendrils across his consciousness, the words whispering in his ear, Cyborg's all-too-casual voice chilling his soul.

"_She isn't well yet, she isn't healed. Not even close."_

And she was wounded. Even if he could bear to be transfixed by that dark blue gaze, could he stand the pain he would surely see in her eyes? Would he be able to look at her, watching her moving slowly, painfully, tormented by the injuries she had sustained? Would he be able to contain himself when he heard the jagged edge of agony in her voice, or saw the blue sparks of healing magic that failed to alleviate her pain?

The hand that had been raised to knock on Raven's door hung limply at his side again, and he bowed his head in something like defeat, as though unable to look at the shadows that bore witness to his folly. His heart constricted painfully in his chest, and he felt waves of embarrassment and shame pounding at him, driving him back a step, away from Raven's door. He recognized the emotion, recognized the upwelling of ice in the depths of his brain, the sensation that coursed through him when he thought about facing Raven again.

Fear.

His lip curling into a sneer, he spun on his heel and slammed his fist into the wall in agitation. _I'm not afraid, damnit! I'm Robin, I can handle anything, much less my own teammate! What is she going to do to me that I'm so afraid of?_

_Nothing. She's not going to do anything. It's not even her I'm afraid of. It's me. _He stared at the bright green of his glove against the gray wall, knowing it was the truth. _I'm afraid because I know that when I see her, I'll feel that demon in me again, feel her blood on my hands and her dying breath on my face. And if anything happens to her – _he shuddered at the thought, hunching his shoulders as though to protect himself from the night's chill – _if anything happens to her, it'll be my fault, and I'll be killing her all over again. Even if I'm not the one to strike the blow, it will still be my claws in her throat, my scales on her skin. And I'll die, going through the rest of my life as a walking, talking, breathing lump of muscle and bone, and nothing more. _

He turned once more to Raven's door, telling himself firmly that he was intending to knock and rouse her, that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and he was doing her more harm than good by trying to shelter her, even if she was injured. And yet he found that his feet would not carry him that one step closer to the door, and his hand would not rise, only remained clenched in a tight fist at his side.

He stood like that for an eternity, staring determinedly at the shadowy wall, the darkness staring back at him with a poisonous gaze, his hands hanging limp, his feet fixed to the carpet. Then, with only a parting glare for the night behind him, Robin turned and started walking, away from the door, away from the love and fear and anger and longing that it held.

A few moments later, the relative peace outside the tower was shattered by a mechanic screech as the R-cycle roared out of the garage, tearing towards the city and the growing blaze of fire that lay beyond.

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And so there you have it…… hurry up and review, because reviews inspire me, and the more review I get, the faster the next chapter gets out. And the next chapter is very, very evil…… Mwahahaha! coughs, clears throat No, I'm not insane…….. I just left my medication at home………


	3. Fire

Here we go, Chapter 3! By the way, if anyone has any suggestions for the title, I'd be happy to take them. I'm not thrilled about the title, it was something random I thought up at two in the morning when I was eager to post. Once again, this writing might not be as good as usual, but I hope you like it anyway. Review, please!

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"Robin! Look out!"

A curse tore its way free of Robin's lips as he threw himself to the side, landing hard against the ground, barely avoiding fiery missile that screamed past where his head had been a moment before. He felt the blast from the weapon ruffle his spiked hair as his limp body skidded away across the stony ground, sending pebbles flying over the edge of the nearby cliff and into the roaring surf below.

Thrown to the fringes of the fight, he took a moment to look over the situation, trying to pick out his teammates against the tide of black-and-yellow HIVE drones that swarmed over the cliff at the eastern edge of Jump City. He could see Cyborg, a blaze of silver and blue as he blasted and battered mercilessly at the enemies around him; Star circled above, raining a constant barrage of green fire down at the attacking robots. At the edge of his vision, Robin saw several drones fly through the air as dinosaur Beast Boy trampled his way through them, tail lashing, teeth flashing in every direction.

And yet as hard as the Titans fought, it remained devastatingly clear that they were outnumbered, and badly. For every drone that the superheroes destroyed, another one poured from the strange ship, looking like nothing so much as a black-and-yellow version of the T-car, that hovered off the cliff edge. Staring at the bizarre vehicle, Robin for the first time noticed the red figure standing on top of it, clad in long, billowing robes, half-human face twisted into a sneer, silver cyborg claws lifted in a gesture of victory.

Brother Blood.

Robin's masked eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists around the staff that he whirled around in a deadly silver blur. Feeling his trademark battle cry bursting from between his bared teeth, he threw himself into the fray, sparks fountaining up about him as his staff smashed through robotic skulls, leaving a trail of shattered metal skeletons in his wake.

"Star!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the clamor of battle, "Star, get Brother Blood! Quick!"

He couldn't afford to look up and see if she had heard him, but he saw the blaze of green light from the corner of his eye that meant his order had been obeyed. He heard as though from a great distance the criminal mastermind's gruff voice, unmistakably infuriated, shouting something unintelligible; then, a sound that tore at his heart, Starfire's high-pitched scream and the roar of a laser cannon discharging its deadly blast.

He heard Beast Boy give an animal roar, and the green dinosaur changed into an emerald elephant that began to plow its way through the massed ranks of the robots, trampling countless drones under its feet as it headed straight for the strange ship and its occupant. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin saw Cyborg doing the same, battling towards the edge of the cliff, sonic cannon blazing more quickly than his eyes could follow. Ducking the clenched fist that was swinging towards his head, Robin smashed his staff through the middle of a robot that was menacing him, kicking the hissing remains out of his way. Shouting and lashing out in all directions, the three heroes fought their way through the mechanic masses towards a single point, a single foe, who stood watching them calmly through one human and one cybernetic eye.

With a furious growl, Robin broke his staff in two over the plated skull of one of the robots, kicking out at the chest of another that was approaching from behind. He allowed his momentum to carry him around in a full circle, his fist plunging through the thin chest plating of yet another foe that came at him from the side. Turning on his heel, he lunged at another drone – and stumbled, his blow whistling harmlessly through empty air, throwing him off-balance.

Regaining his feet quickly, he brandished the broken halves of his staff, his masked eyes flickering through the fire-lit night, meeting nothing but the dark expanses of the sea beyond the cliff edge – and the still form of Brother Blood standing calmly on the top of his impossible ship. The ranks of HIVE drones stood massed behind him, none moving, all standing perfectly still, their faces turned towards their master as though awaiting some silent command. Daring to look around, Robin saw Beast Boy and Cyborg in similar positions, standing bewilderedly in a wide strip of clear space along the cliff's edge that separated Brother Blood from his mechanized army.

"Hello, Titans," the villain said calmly, lifting one electronic hand. All three heroes tensed at the sudden movement, which only made Brother Blood smile as he beckoned one of his robots forward. The drone obeyed, taking a step towards its master and depositing a clearly unconscious Starfire on the ground at his feet.

"I thought you might like your friend returned to you," Brother Blood continued amiably. "And yet, it seems that one Titan is still missing. Lying in wait for me, perhaps? Ready to spring some kind of trap?"

Cyborg and Beast Boy looked around, realizing that it was true – that Raven was indeed missing. They glanced over at Robin, silently asking him what had become of her, but not daring to speak, in case there truly was some kind of trap laying in wait that they did not know about. Robin answered with a minimal shake of his head, while shame began to burn deep within him. Shame at his own fear, his own cowardice – he had been afraid to face his own teammate, and now he would pay for it with his lives and lives of his friends, lives that could have been spared if Raven had been there to help. What would she do, upon waking to an empty tower and discovering that all of her friends had been killed because of his stupidity?

He felt the heat of his guilt rise to his face, and he was sure that his cheeks were flushed – hopefully his friends would think it was the heat of battle that made his face seem to shimmer with a red rage. "Why are you here?" he snapped sharply, every muscles in his body tense, his heart once more painfully constricted, his eyes burning as though with tears. "What do you want?"

Brother Blood seemed slightly surprised by the question, though his slight, friendly grin never wavered. "What do I want?" he repeated, raising one eyebrow as though shocked at Robin's ignorance. "Why, I want what every villain wants – revenge. I trust you are familiar with the concept?"

The hem of his long robes billowed gracefully as he stepped from the hull of his ship onto the jagged edge of the cliff, the sightless eyes of the HIVE drones following his every movement. His silver-clawed hands behind his back, he paced towards Robin, looking disdainfully down at the young hero, the red plating of his electronic arms making it look as though his skin had been bathed in blood.

Robin leaped at the villain as he walked past, the broken halves of his staff whirling in both hands, twin silver blurs as they flew towards the blood-red plate that covered most of Brother Blood's head. His expression never wavering for an instant, the villain whipped one hand around, forming a strange symbol with the tapering silver fingers – Robin's charge was halted as he slammed into a solid barrier of bloody radiance that his enemy had conjured seemingly out of the air. He stumbled back, dazed, the fragments of his shattered weapon slipping from his grasp as Brother Blood watched, chuckling slightly. Without another glance for his fallen foe, the villain continued past Beast Boy, who did not try to attack, but crouched in the form of a tiger, snarling, eyes bright in the light of dozens of fires. Brother Blood didn't even glance at the menacing animal; instead, he continued sedately past until he stood impassively, nearly eye-to-eye with Cyborg.

There was moment of ringing silence as bionic eye met glaring bionic eye, the red gazes clashing and warring in a battle that rang with a thousand shouts and screeches just below the edge of hearing. His eye never leaving his foe's face, Cyborg raised his sonic cannon, pointing it straight at Brother Blood's chest, the gleaming blue light from the charging cannon mouth falling on the villain's elaborate robes. It was a point-blank shot. Impossible to miss.

Cyborg fired.

The blast of blue energy exploded from what had once been his arm, tearing straight for the villain – and was deflected, flying off at angle into the dark night with a shriek of tortured air, leaving not so much as a streak of soot on Brother Blood's robes.

Then, with the eyes of both Robin and Beast Boy fixed to the sudden movement, the villain raised one cybernetic hand, placing two of the silver fingers on the rim of Cyborg's sonic cannon, pushing the weapon down until it was pointed harmlessly at rock and earth. "You own me two headquarters and quite a few students," he hissed, human eye narrowed in hatred, robotic one still wide and glaring. "Now it is time to settle the score."

Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, Brother Blood stepped back, away from the three heroes, moving quickly towards the ship that still hovered faithfully over the roaring sea. Stepping back onto the hull, he raised a metallic hand as if in farewell as the craft began to move with a deafening roar, spiraling up and away, until it was fair distance from the earthbound Titans.

The crouching green tiger turned into a hulking pterodactyl and took to the skies – clawing at the air, startled, as an explosion rang out far below and behind the heroes. Turning on his heel, Robin watched, bewildered, as a single drone in the very back of the mechanical hoard died in a burst of searing flame.

"Goodbye, Titans!" Brother Blood called from his exalted height. "I would say it has been a pleasure, but –" he paused as another drone combusted with a wail of dying machinery, "I am not fond of lying. We shall not meet again."

As yet another robot dissolved in a bloom of fire, Robin realized, too late, what was happening. He started to scramble towards the cliffs, hoping to jump – only to find himself facing a wall of expressionless metal masks. The HIVE drones had surrounded the heroes – but they made no move to attack, only standing and staring with their soulless eyes as more and more of their number continued to explode, a row of fiery roses that bloomed and faded and died to ashes all within a single instant. And the blasts grew closer and closer to the trapped Titans as more and more the metal shells were set alight – Beast Boy, still in the form of a pterodactyl, swooped down and grasped the unconscious Starfire, carrying her away beyond the ring of fire and setting her down before returning – but he would not have enough time to save both Robin and Cyborg, as the bursts of fire grew closer and closer, so that the Titans' faces were burned red by the heat. The cracking apart of metal casing and the scream of sundered wires began to fuse together, melting into one long, drawn-out, unearthly shriek, the feeding whine of the fire as it leaped from drone to drone, surrounding the heroes, light blazing in all directions, blotting out the shadows of the night.

Robin gasped and choked, each breath burning his lungs as he gulped down the superheated air, his gloved hands groping blindly in front of him for some escape, grasping at any last chance of hope. There was none – he looked up, past the oily smoke that sprang form the fire, wide eyes trying to pick out Beast Boy's circling form, but his vision was obscured by the radiance of the flames and the sunspots that danced before his eyes.

Cyborg was firing water out of a small cannon on his arm, but it was a desperate measure, and he knew it. The fire drew closer about them, and Robin shut his masked eyes tightly, trying to protect them from the sparks and embers that fountained up into the night sky – he could feel the greasy smoke being drawn into his lungs as he gasped desperately, and the heat and lack of air combined into one sharp dagger in his chest, twisting as a heavy pain pounded against his skull, and the world around him spun in sickening whorls of burning light and darkness. He could hear Cyborg's voice, shouting, but the gruff bass rumbling sounded like a drum beating in the depths of his brain, making his vision shake and waver with its vibration, until he could no longer hear it because of the dull roar of pain inside his head. There was a dark veil falling over the burning fires all around him, and everything around him was fading, fading – he coughed and choked, the air in his lungs burning and smoke-filled, devoid of oxygen – he could feel his heart beating frantically in his chest, everything spinning, spinning, fading, falling…….

Cyborg's shouts ringing loudly in his ears, Robin swayed, wreathed by smoke and fire, and fell silently to the ground.

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There was darkness.

Darkness…………..

"Robin!"

Someone calling him. Someone…….

"Robin, come on, wake up!"

It was a familiar voice. One he knew, one he knew well…….. harsh, sharp tones….. but it had not always been that way………

"Damn you, Robin, come back!"

Someone shouting at him. The voice more hoarse than usual……. as though the breath was catching in someone's throat, coming out in ragged sobs.

"Damn you, Robin, if you don't wake up, I'll – I'll – I'll kill you!"

Someone……..crying? _No, don't cry……… I'm all right………_

"I'm all right." The words came out hoarse, soft, but audible. Just the act of speaking burned his throat, and he coughed, feeling searing pain in his lungs as he gulped down the cool, clean night air. He remembered fire, burning, drowning in smoke, and now darkness………

Above him he could hear the harsh, ragged breathing of someone trying not to burst into tears…… he blinked, opening his eyes as he felt a single drop of something warm fall on his face. Several blurry faces surrounded him, all peering down at him, spinning in dizzying circles, then blurring together, their outlines solidifying until there was only one.

"Hello, Raven," he said hoarsely, finding himself staring into the delicately featured moon-pale face, the endless shifting depths of those violet eyes, the ebony blue locks hanging down, in sharp contrast to her pale skin. He felt his mouth turn up in a slight smile, a foreign expression that felt strangely alien on his face. "What's new?"

The simple words set off another coughing fit, and he tried to sit up – a notion that was quickly discouraged as the image of Raven's face began to blur and waver again. He felt a small hand on his chest, pushing him down and holding him still with surprising force.

"Don't talk." Raven's voice was the usual deadpan monotone, but he could hear something, some hidden passion or suppressed emotion beneath the words. "You breathed in way too much smoke back there, and your lungs and throat are damaged. It'll take me a minute to heal you, so I suggest you shut up for once in your life."

For once he found himself doing as he was told, closing his eyes, Raven's harsh, biting words piercing his skin like daggers that stayed firmly imbedded in his skin despite the blue healing magic that now flowed from her white hands. He felt a wave of soothing cold sweep over his chest and throat, and he took a deep breath, experimentally. When there was no pain, he tried hesitantly to sit up, supporting himself on his elbows.

Much of his former strength had returned with that brief moment of healing, and he was able to lift himself to his knees. He paused there, looking over at Raven, who kneeled beside him, her cloak falling in rippling folds about her, hiding her – all but her face, where he saw a brief moment of some emotion flash across her features – relief? Vulnerability? Fear?

The moment passed, and he pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet, standing and surveying his surroundings. He was still on the cliff beside the roaring sea; the ship that Brother Blood had built was gone, as was the villain himself, but the remains of his invasion were strewn all around, the metal carcasses of his drones burned and blackened, along with bits of metal shrapnel and debris that still sparked angrily, hissing to themselves in the cold night. Some distance away, standing watching him with faces that remained hidden in shadow, stood Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Starfire – and though he could not see their eyes, he could feel their sharp glares, the roar of accusation in their stony silence.

"Are you okay?" Raven's toneless voice spoke from behind him, jolting him back to reality with its frigid cold. He turned to reply, only to find that she had pulled her hood up, casting her face in shadow –all but for her endless eyes. "You took the longest to wake up, and you were the one with the worst burns. Are you still hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," he replied absently, rubbing at the edges of his mask – which, he was relieved to see, hadn't burned away.

"Good." There was a moment of silence, and he opened his mouth to say something to Raven – but before he could, she spoke again, her voice full of venom, and something close to hate.

"What the _hell _were you_ thinking_?" she hissed, white hands clenched into fists in the shadows of her cloak. She did not shout, but she did not need to; even with her hood hiding her face, she somehow managed to convey all of her anger, all of her accusing contempt in a single glance. And there was something more there, too – something that looked suspiciously like fear. "Were you trying to get yourself _killed_? How could you _do_ that to me? Just leave me there and let my friends plunge headfirst into danger? Did you think I wouldn't care? Did you think I wouldn't mind being left behind while you all got your skin roasted off?"

"Raven, I –"

"Your fear and anger woke me up from miles away, so I fly to find you and what do I find? Cyborg barely conscious, Starfire knocked out, Beast Boy in a panic, and you almost dead! You wouldn't be alive if I hadn't gotten here, Robin! Do you think I _want_ you to die? Do you think that if you had been killed I would have just been able to move on with my life, knowing that I could have done something to stop it?"

Her hands were moving restlessly, almost as though she longed to wrap them about his throat, and though her voice was full of anger, growing louder and rising with every word, her eyes gleamed far too brightly – it looked almost as though she was holding back tears.

"Raven, I – I never meant for this –"

"I don't care what you meant!" she was shouting now, tendrils of black magic rippling out from her body, tossing sharp-edged plates of metal over the cliff to crash into the water below. "Why didn't you wake me up? Did you think I wouldn't be able to handle it? I'm not stupid, Robin, and I'm not weak!"

"No," he said quickly, holding up his hands to forestall her vicious words. "No, you're not, I know you're not! It was my fault, I –"

"Damn right, it's your fault! Why did you do that, Robin? Why?" Staring at the shadow that hid her face, he saw the splinter of light that was a single tear, gleaming in the soft glow of the stars.

"Because I was scared," he said softly, feeling his own hands clench into fists as the words burst from him, fighting their way free of his lips. He did not want to tell her, did not want to say it out loud, because saying it out loud was an admission that he had indeed given into fear – but the alternative was lying to Raven, and that was something he simply could not do.

"_You_ were scared!" She glared at him with a measure of anger he had never seen from her before, anger that seemed to radiate off of her, in waves of heat that pulled the skin on his face tight and dry. "You were scared! How do you think I felt when I found you, laying on the ground, surrounded by fire, barely breathing? I thought you were dead, Robin. For a minute I truly thought you were dead." The anger had not diminished, nor had her voice lost any of its passion, but he could see tears streaming down her face now, feel the cold touch of dark magic washing over him, though it did not harm him. Even confronted by an incredibly angry Raven, her hands twitching as though they longed to tear him apart, he felt no fear.

At least, he felt no fear for himself.

"Raven," he said hesitantly, taking a step towards her, hands outstretched desperately, pleadingly, "Raven, please, stop –"

"No!" she screeched, hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing even as her tears continued to fall. "No, I won't stop! Just because – because of what happened –" she paused, and Robin could see her visibly trembling, her shoulders shaking with tearing sobs. "Just because of what happened, that doesn't mean that I need you to save me all the time! It doesn't mean that I can't look after myself! And you going and trying to sacrifice yourself because of some stupid childish fear –" her voice had reached a feverish pitch, and she was nearly screaming at him, four flickering red eyes blazing through the tears that he could still see under her hood – he could almost feel the heat that flowed from her as her anger fought for control, and won –

She opened her mouth to continue her tirade, but her words were drowned out by a fit of painful coughing that drove her to her knees, the red demon eyes fleeing, changing back into the endless violet, stricken with pain and confusion. Coughs wracking her thin frame, Raven fell to the ground, one hand clutching her chest, the other against her mouth as she doubled over in pain.

Robin stood frozen for a moment, shocked – then he was at her side, kneeling on the ground, one hand hovering just above her shoulder as he waited for the coughing fit to subside.

"Robin –" she said hoarsely, between coughs, her entire body shaking fitfully, all anger gone. "Robin –"

"I'm here," he said quickly, breathlessly, searching her shadowed face for any kind of sign, any hint of what was wrong. There was a whine of panic wailing on the inside of his skull and he couldn't think straight, couldn't see, couldn't breathe –

"What's wrong with her?"

Cyborg's deep voice jolted him out of his shock, though his thoughts were still drowned out by panic. "I don't know, I don't know, she was shouting, and then she just collapsed! What's wrong with her, Cyborg, what's going on?" he was babbling, frantically, unable to form any kind of coherent thought. Cyborg ignored him, kneeling beside Raven's trembling form, the scanner on his arm emitting steady beeps as her coughing slowed, then finally stopped, dying away into the harsh sounds of ragged breathing.

"She's torn open an old wound," the half-robot said grimly, his eyes never leaving the opened panel in the machinery that covered his arm. "A half-healed broken rib. It shifted on the split, and nicked the lung. We've got to get her home."

"I'm……..fine……" Raven said hoarsely, still shaking, her hand falling from her mouth and clenching into a fist – but not before Robin caught a glimpse of blood smeared on her palm.

"Like hell you're fine," Cyborg said grimly, picking Raven up as though she weighed nothing, despite her harsh protests. "We're going home."

He walked away, leaving Robin behind without a backward glance, towards the huddled forms of Beast Boy and Starfire. Staring after his departing form, Robin stood thunderstruck in the midst of a storm of steel, the shrapnel still glowing with the unearthly light of black magic, his eyes staring sightlessly into the darkness before him.

_I'm sorry, Raven._

His lips moved softly, but no sound emerged, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

_It's all my fault. My fault you got angry, my fault you're hurt. Always my fault. I'm sorry, Raven, so, so, sorry………_

He forced his feet to move, slowly, his eyes closed as he walked woodenly away through the darkness. And though he tried as hard as he could to keep his mind focused on the world around him, he could not keep himself from imagining his hands beneath his gloves slick with red-black blood, and the green gauntlets torn by hideous yellowed claws.

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So there you have it…… I have to go back to school tomorrow, so I might not update for a while. Dusty, I estimate two more chapters until the big surprise; just hold on until then…….

Hey, everyone! Would you like to be the proud owner of lots of digital cookies? Well, today is your day! All you have to do is click that little blue button down there…… come on, I'm desperate! Where have all my reviewers gone?


	4. Dawn and Darkness

I know this took FOREVER, and I'm sorry about that. First there was an attack of writer's block, then a vicious bout of disinterest, then school decided to make itself more of a pain in the neck than it usually is……. but enough with excuses, on with the show!

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Dawn broke softly over Titans tower, a quiet lifting away of night's enshrouding darkness that dyed the troubled sky a light gray, a featureless expanse of stormclouds with the rose-tinted fire of sunrise leaking around the edges to fall on the restless waters below. Gilded gold by the little light, the waves shifted and murmured to themselves in muted roars, breaking themselves on the rocky shore and throwing foam into the air that, catching the glimmers of the rising sun, fell down red like a shower of blood.

Fighting and failing to break free of the clouds that painted dull gray across the radiant sky, the sun's faint light crept through the wide windows of the stately tower's main room, a gleam of resonance that quickly grew, dancing shimmering diamond patterns across the somber walls. And though within minutes the dying radiance had flooded the wide room, tinting the frigid and empty air with its warmth, there remained one place in the plaster and cement walls that was untouched by the gentle gleaming, one place that seemed to absorb the caress of dawn. There, staining the pristine wall despite desperate attempts to be rid of it, spread a smear of black ash, reminiscent of an unnatural fire, and a taint of red-black blood.

The sunlight began to spread in creeping rays across the churning sky, falling gently through the windows that marred the gleaming surface of the tower, slipping under the cracks of doors, spreading like some disease from room to room, seeping through walls, slowly warming the cold shadows that winter left in its wake. Yet in the very heart of the tower, shielded from the invading sunlight, a forbidding door stood silently in a well of shadows that contained far too much fear, far too many memories to be lifted by even the brightest dawn.

Robin allowed his eyes to slip shut, burdened by the suddenly titanic weight of the mask on his face, pressing on his skin that still held the heat of the fire that had almost killed him, the cloth that had once been unnoticeable now suffocating him with its weight. How he longed to simply lift it away, and with it all of the responsibilities, all of the emotions, all of the memories……….

His mind fogged with pain and exhaustion, he allowed the green-gloved hands to wander up to the restraining cloth, feeling the edges worn from his constant worrying, the familiar folds of silk that had become his life, his mind, his soul. He was struck by the absurd thought that if he tried to lift it off, the weight of all that it had seen and driven him to would make it heavy, with a density far greater than the paper-thin cloth. Maybe all of the emotion, all of the pain that it had seen had seeped into the weave and through to his skin, drying there like a layer of blood, congealing and cementing so that the mask was fixed to its position atop the bridge of his nose. Maybe it had held the form of his face for so long that it had replaced the skin, and tearing it away would expose his bone and blood upon the open air, far more revealing than he had ever intended.

"Stupid," he murmured sleepily to himself, yet he could not shake the vague fear that his entire soul had been lost between the black folds of the mask…….his eyes closed, he envisioned the dark cloth growing, rippling, bulging with the effort of containing all of the memories it had come to represent – and yet at the same time the hue grew lighter, until he was lost not in a small mask, but the ebony creases of a long blue cloak.

There was a slight flurry of sound from inside the door that stared blankly at him from across the hallway – only a soft whir, like the hiss of discharged air that was a hero's last breath, or the whine of a cold, uncaring machine jolted into gleaming life. Silence fell; then, distinctly, the metallic clanking of steel on tiles, and then the door crashed open, heedless of the silence that had settled over the Tower beyond like a burial shroud. Robin winced, startled by the sudden burst of sound, and let his hand fall from his mask back down to his side, looking up at the stern, half-metallic face that suddenly emerged from the dead gray light on the door's other side.

"Robin." Cyborg nodded, once, in grim recognition, before turning and walking away down the hall, leaving the door wide open like some gaping maw through which the fumes of ammonia and peroxide drifted like some monster's hideous breath.

"Wait!"

Robin scrambled to his feet, taken by surprise, and lunged down the hallway after Cyborg's hulking gray form. "Wait!" The half-robot did not stop, each clank of his steel-soled feet carrying him farther away. "Wait, hold on! Cyborg, stop!"

Robin lunged forward, managing to grasp one blue-plated arm, digging his heels into the hall's carpet as Cyborg stopped, his bionic eye still gazing unwaveringly ahead, his human one peering down at the green-gauntleted hand on his elbow. Robin stared up into that challenging gaze almost defiantly, trying desperately not to look at the open door behind him that he could hear bumping against the wall with a sound like the footsteps of some ravenous approaching beast.

"What, Robin?" Cyborg asked softly, with an almost dangerous calm, his voice with an element of steel to it, hard, sharp and cold.

"How is she?" Robin asked breathlessly, pleadingly, masked eyes wide with desperation, mind still fogged with exhaustion and pain. "What's wrong with her? What the hell's going on, Cyborg?" A moment passed, and the half-metal face peering down at him offered no response. "And why won't you talk to me? Why do you keep looking at me like I've committed some kind of horrible crime? What've I done, Cyborg, what've I done?"

There was a moment of silence. "I don't know, _Robin_," Cyborg said acidly, spitting out his leader's name as though it was a curse. "Why don't you tell me? Why don't you tell me why you _said_ you were going to get Raven, and then Raven didn't show up? Why don't you tell me why it's only talking to _you_ that she gets hurt and upset?"

Robin stared at him, blankly, mouth hanging slightly open, his grip on Cyborg's arm loosening in his shock. It didn't matter; the half-robot didn't move to walk away, only stood there waiting, fixing Robin the blood-red glare of his bionic eye, impatient.

"You don't think –" Robin simply stared back up into that gleaming red light, thunderstruck, incredulous, "You don't think that I hurt her on _purpose_? Don't you know that I'd rather hurt myself than see Raven in pain? Don't you know that I've been sitting here –" he flung his arm out in a frustrated gesture that encompassed the hallway, his voice rising in passion and volume with every word, "Don't you know that I've been sitting here for the past God-knows-how-long, _torturing_ myself with visions of Raven hurt and dying, going over all of the thousands of stupid things I've done and hating myself for it? Don't you know how much I love her?"

The last words were spoken almost in a scream, a feral roar the built up in chest and burst from between his bared teeth, a lifetime of agony in his tone, a single tear dampening the cloth of his mask in the hidden black folds where Cyborg could not see. And in the face of that unbreaking truth the half-robot seemed to deflate, his rigid form relaxing, the cold glare of his bionic eye losing its accusing fire. "I don't know anything anymore," he said wearily, brushing Robin's green-gloved hand away. "You're right, though. You love her. You told me that. I've _seen_ how much you love her – you've literally been through hell and back for her." He shrugged, an oddly exhausted gesture, as though even that slow and ponderous movement was too great a tax on his strength. "I'm sorry, man, I just – I told you, I don't know anything. It's just all so screwed up – it's not your fault, though. It's not anyone's fault. I don't know. Maybe it'll make sense in the morning."

"How is she?" Robin asked piteously, masked eyes begging, pleading, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Cyborg shook his head. "Honestly?" he hesitated, as though he was considering telling a lie despite the word he had just uttered; then he sighed again, and made a vague gesture in the air with one steel-fingered hand. "Really, there's no way to tell. I've done all I can; she's in one of her healing trances, as far as I can tell. But –" he paused again, looking at Robin doubtfully, as though wondering whether he was capable of bearing the burden that the next words would lay upon him. Robin didn't blame him; he _felt_ washed out, exhausted and pale – he couldn't even begin to guess how he must have looked.

"But?" he prompted impatiently. Cyborg only sighed again.

"But I think there's something wrong," the half-robot replied grudgingly, as though each word cost him something dear and irreplaceable. "From what I can tell, she isn't getting any better. It's as if something inside her is doing more damage as quickly as she can heal it." He shrugged and started to walk away again. "There's nothing else I can do. We'll just have to see what happens. You should get some sleep, man. It's been a long night."

Robin stayed where he was, staring into the shadows that hid the end of the hallway long after they had swallowed Cyborg's retreating form. Then, suddenly, he felt anger flare up in him; stupid, unthinking, unreasoning anger, hatred for the half-robot, for himself, for Raven, for the shadows all around him and the sun that dared to rise and intrude on his private grief. It was a fluctuating fire in his chest, growing to consume him, flushing his skin with its unnatural heat; but he relished it, because it turned the tears that built up behind his eyes from water to steam, smoke that fogged his mind and made his vision blur and waver into a red haze that he was sure would never lift.

Finally, jolted into movement by the fire that swept over him, he turned on his heel and began to stomp away down the hall, walking woodenly, with a broken, disjointed step that carried him down a stairwell and through a labyrinth of dark corridors, always avoiding the sunlight that crept in through the Tower windows, until he plunged into the pitch darkness of the garage, letting instinct guide his steps, until his outstretched hands caressed the R-cycle's smooth body.

He slid onto the cycle, the familiar feeling of the metal beneath him only lending fuel to his bizarre anger. He placed the helmet on his head and cinched the straps, then revved the engine and streaked away into the morning, the scream of tortured rubber on asphalt not quite managing to drown out the scream that tore itself from Robin's open mouth.

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Darkness…………..

_Waves of red fire surrounded her, throbbing, pulsing, shifting into snarling teeth that snapped at her, and claws that plunged into her chest, setting her skin aflame where they touched._

Fire……..smoke and fire…….. anger…….. pain……..

_She gritted her teeth against the sudden searing pain, raising white hands that burned red in the inferno's heat. Waves of shimmering darkness reared from her fire-shrouded form, crashing down onto the crimson tide all around, quenching the flames where they touched. Hissing in anger, the inferno strengthened lunging for her; but again it was beaten down, beaten back._

Drifting up……….. out of sleep………floating through murky waters, towards a light that gleamed far above – then, past the light, darkness.

_Again the flames clawed at her, and again she forced them away; but her strength was waning, and there was a terrible sense, a dark foreboding that to lose this battle was to fall under a tide of fire and never rise again. There was a sinister laugh echoing in the fire's malevolent screech, like the grating together of shale boulders and the shrieking of damned souls._

A memory stirred. A face……….

Robin?

_She was falling, losing ground, being driven back to avoid being swept away by flame, arms crossed and shimmering with black magic against the fiery onslaught. The very air began to burn, scorching her lungs, so that it hurt even to breathe –_

_Then, suddenly, so suddenly it left her gasping for air, the fire was gone._

_Pain still throbbed in her chest, and she reached out with a finger of cooling blue light, soothing away the burning agony. A hint of red gleamed at the edge of her vision; she turned, ready for battle, only to see that it had coalesced into a pulsing river of liquid light, and was flowing up, away – not leaving, not entirely, for she could still feel the heat trembling in the air where it had passed. But for now, at least, it was gone. She fell to her knees, exhausted, breathing deeply._

_Without warning, a band of burning iron clenched around her throat, its white-hot touch blackening her skin, scorching her hands as they flew to the metal band, scrabbling at the burning iron, trying and failing to tear it off. It drew tighter – tighter – tighter – she couldn't breathe – and tighter still –_

Cyborg, lying awake in the dark, glimmering cavern of his room, was jolted into awareness by the crashing of glass and metal that echoed through the Tower like a demon's tortured scream.

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Robin gritted his teeth in a feral scowl, leaning low over the R-cycle's handlebars, knees clenched tight around the cycle's metal body. He could feel the anger that had flushed every inch of his skin torn away by the whistling wind's violent claws, a red specter ripped violently from his body and lying in gleaming shards in his burned asphalt wake.

Over the shrieking of the wind, the annoying, ringing tones of his communicator managed – barely – to make themselves heard, shrilling with a harsh screeching in his ears. Lips curled back in a sneer by the force of the wind that streamed past him, he pried one hand from the cycle's handlebars, pulling out the small device and flipping it open, looking recklessly away from the road in front of him.

Cyborg's face peered up at him out of the small handheld screen, his blue-plated skull haloed by the bright, glaring lights of the infirmary. His eyes narrowing as he saw the expression on the half-robot's face, Robin wrapped his finger's around the cycle's emergency handbrake, slowing his pace to a crawl, swerving over to the side of the road, feeling strangely bereft without the elation of the howling wind in his ears.

"What is it, Cyborg?" he snapped, making no secret of his irritation. "I was busy."

The half-robot opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again when no words emerged. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath as though to steady himself; then his voice came filtering through the communicator's small speakers, a tide of words that chilled Robin's heart.

"Robin, you need to come home. Right now."

"Why?" He snarled, trying to stifle the sense of uneasiness welling up in the depths of his mind. He felt suddenly weak, as though in tearing away his anger the wild ride had ripped from something altogether more precious and vital to his survival.

Cyborg breathed in deeply again, and Robin thought he could hear the creak of oiled joints as the half-robot clenched his hands into nervous fists. "Because, there's something wrong with Raven."

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This is sucky, I know, but it was written in bits and pieces between science projects. CURSE THE PUBLIC SCHOOL SYSTEM! CURSE IT, I SAY! 37 more days…… 37 more days until I'm free….. checks watch and realizes it's 1:00 in the morning Hey, only 36 days! Woohoo!

Next chapter……. I won't tell you anything except that Dusty's going to want to kill me. Get your pitchforks sharpened, folks………


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